Calluses
by Tanookie
Summary: Post-Journey: Our two favorite Jews have a moment on the playground. One-shot, minor Puckleberry. Based off Bree-utiful's writing challenge from "Don't Stop Believin.'"


**A/N:** This was based off of Bree-utiful's challenge at the "Don't Stop Believin'" forum (it's from October, but still). The prompt was "Bare Feet" and it the fic had to contain one of the following quotes:

1. "To read makes our speaking English good."

2. "It's funny how the Earth never opens up and swallows you when you want it to."

3. "Occasionally I'm callous and strange."

4. "Your logic does not resemble our earth logic."

5. "I'm ignoring you because you make me sad."

Anyways, hope you enjoy!

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**Calluses**

To be quite honest, the Lima City Park couldn't be considered much of a park. Rather, it was more of a city block that just so happened to have healthy grass and a few trees, therefore prompting the city council to build a slide, swing set and jungle gym complex. It saw quite a bit of use from younger kids and their families, especially during the summer months, but as Rachel Berry passed through the park on her daily evening walk, she didn't see any children at all.

However, she did notice, as she circled around the colorful playground, a pair of bare feet that hung down from the other side of the complex. Rachel paused and squinted, trying to make them out more clearly; they were large and the soles were rough—it definitely wasn't a child. Slowing her pace instantly, Rachel's mind immediately shifted into hyperactive overdrive. If this person didn't have shoes, then he probably was poor…which meant, to her overdramatic imagination, that he would probably try to rob her! Rachel moved quietly, biting her lip nervously; she'd never encountered a rapist or any sort of criminal before, unless she counted…

"Noah Puckerman?"

Yes, it had to be him. The shaved head and bulky frame were both unmistakable. The boy was sitting on the edge of a colorful plastic ledge, his feet hanging down as he gazed lazily into the brilliant warm-colored sunset. Rachel edged closer, noticing the boy's slouched posture and sloppy appearance; even looking at his profile, Rachel could see that his face was coated in stubble and his eyes were heavy and half-lidded. He hadn't even noticed when she called his name.

Taking a few more steps, Rachel tried again: "Noah?"

Slowly, as if he were moving through water, Puck turned his head to hear where his name was coming from. He blinked a few times, registering who was speaking to him, then turned back to face the sunset. "Hey, Berry."

Rachel was about to open her mouth to speak, but another glance from Puck silenced her. His tired, hollow eyes slowly traced her petite form up and down.

"Nice 80's getup," he said dully. "You going to a costume party or something?"

Rachel frowned, slightly offended. _My legwarmers and headband match perfectly, thank you very much!_ she thought indignantly. But she'd heard plenty of insults about her wardrobe, so she brushed it off. She was more concerned as to why Puck seemed so…lifeless. She was fairly certain he spent his afternoons trying to buy alcohol, not lounging on a kid's playground without shoes on.

"It's my exercise ensemble," she explained. "Normally I don't see many people on my evening walks, so appearances aren't really a concern." Puck didn't reply, so Rachel continued to cautiously approach him until she was standing next to him; since he was sitting on an elevated surface, her head barely reached his shins. "I certainly wonder about _your_ fashion choices as well," the brunette continued, looking distastefully at Puck's bare feet, which were callused and dirty. "You're not wearing any shoes," she said pointedly.

"Really?" Puck deadpanned. "I had no idea."

Rachel blinked several times, unsure of what to say; she and Puck had never really had much one-on-one interaction, even during their brief relationship (which had mostly consisted of making out). Considering she usually didn't know how to communicate with a normal, cocky Puck, when confronted with this listless, possibly distressed Puck, Rachel was at a complete loss for words.

"Well…" she began slowly, "can I ask why?"

Puck shrugged disinterestedly. "It's summer."

_That's not really a reason,_ Rachel thought to herself, but she said nothing for a few tense seconds. "How's it been?" she inquired quietly, looking up at him. "Your vacation, I mean."

He didn't say anything.

Rachel's brow furrowed as she thought of something else to say. Noticing the line of black hair running down the boy's scalp, she said brightly, "I see you've been growing out your mohawk again."

At the mention of his hair, a small smirk flashed across Puck's face, though he kept his gaze straight ahead. "I figured Puckzilla needed to at least try and make an official return," he told her his still-monotonous voice.

Rachel's lips curved upward softly, though it was more out of concern than pride for having gotten Puck to responde in full sentences. Glancing around, she found the steps that brought her up onto the colorful plastic complex, and so quickly ascended them to sit next to her teammate. "And why is that?" she asked gently, though she was sure she already knew the answer.

Puck made a sad noise in his throat that sounded like a mix between a scoff and a chuckle. He turned to look at Rachel, one eyebrow raised. "What, are we playing therapy now?" he suggested sarcastically.

"Not unless you think we need to, Noah," Rachel responded with a knowing smile. Puck rolled his eyes and turned away again. "I just want to talk," she continued. "Like, for example, why you look like you haven't shaved or done any personal grooming for at least seventy-two hours."

She nudged the boy's bare foot with her own sneakered one. "And the _real_ reason why you decided to walk around with no shoes like a hobo."

Puck sighed. "Oh my God," he said tiredly. "If it's really _that_ important, I'll tell you." Looking down at his feet thoughtfully, he spread his toes and wiggled them around as he spoke in a progressively softening tone. "When I have to think—which I don't like to do that often—I walk around barefoot. Cause, you know, that gives you calluses."

There was a pause. "Why would you want calluses?" Rachel wondered, clearly confused.

Puck looked at her, his expression almost pathetic. Their eyes locked, and Rachel could see the remnants of hurt and sorrow lurking behind his intense brown irises.

"Because then you can't feel pain."

He then turned back out, squinting into the sunset's heated colors that washed over them and tinted everything the color of blood. Rachel felt her attitude falter and sink, Puck's melancholy and crestfallen attitude penetrating her ethos. She looked at the boy imploringly, her face further conveying the concern in her voice as she spoke. "I…I don't understand." She shook her head desperately, her physical stance and vocal intonation clearly begging for an explanation.

Puck swallowed hard, and she could see him struggling to hold his neutral façade. An awkward silence settled over them. Rachel extended a hand and placed it softly on his bicep, though now it was a comforting action instead of a reassurance of the boy's masculinity. "Noah," she said imploringly, and that was all it took.

He couldn't look at her, only the delicate hand resting on his arm. "I can't stop thinking about her," he admitted, his voice choking on the last word. Rachel understood immediately, and the thought of that newborn child who her mother had chosen over her brought a lump into her throat. Shelby hadn't informed Rachel of the decision—Quinn had. It had been surprisingly compassionate of the blonde, but sometimes Rachel wished she hadn't said anything at all. It had given her the briefest flutter of hope, thinking that one day, her mother would come for her and they could make up for sixteen lost years…

For a moment, there was silence. Rachel fished for something to say in her extensive vocabulary that could possibly make Puck feel better, but nothing surfaced. Her mind seemed to be unable to function as quickly as it had been a few short minutes ago. So, instead of saying anything, she leaned closer to the boy, wrapping her short arm around his broad shoulders and pulling them closer together in a quasi-hug.

"I wish it could have happened differently," he murmured, talking more to himself than to Rachel, "but…thinking about it too much just makes me wanna just…crawl into a hole and die." He turned his ankle so that the soles of his feet were facing slightly upward, revealing that almost all of the skin was rough and dead. "So I like to think that…if I can keep myself from feeling _physical_ pain…" He let his foot drop to its natural position. "I can stop feeling it inside."

It was clear he hadn't opened up like this to anyone before. Rachel felt tears welling up in her eyes. She used her other hand that wasn't wrapped around Puck to squeeze his shoulder, and he turned to look at her. She was surprised to see his eyes glistening as well.

"It's funny how the earth never opens up and swallows you when you want it to," Rachel said with a forced laugh, trying to lighten the mood and distract from the fact that her voice was trembling. "I've certainly felt it before as well." The memories began to resurface: apologizing to Quinn after revealing her secret, Jesse leaving her, the egg yolks dripping down her face, the loss at Regionals. "But it's a good thing, you know."

Puck's brow furrowed. "What?"

Rachel took a deep breath, steadying her voice so that she could speak more confidently. "As a budding young artist in the making, I'm no stranger the sting of rejection. I know it's hard to believe, what with my talent and all"—there was the Rachel he knew, Puck thought as he allowed himself the smallest of smirks—"but I've learned that you can't let this kind of pain consume you. It has to make you stronger."

She looked down at Puck's feet, and the calluses that covered them. "In time, it will fade away, and you'll be left with a callus…just like those. But you can't _give_ yourself calluses—or _make_ yourself ignore your feelings—because they'll just come back and hurt you more. It has to happen naturally."

Rachel felt her own past emotions leaping up inside her; talking about them had brought them back. Now feeling a mixture of fear, depression, and loss, Rachel hugged Puck closer, feeling his heavy frame leaning against her petite body. The proximity to him was welcome, and made her feel secure.

_I need this just as much as he does,_ she realized. Rachel continued to talk, though now she was talking just as much to herself as she was to him. "It's okay to hurt, Noah," she said in a small voice, rubbing her other hand up and down his shoulder, much like a mother would do to a child. She could feel her vocalizations starting to waver again, and her vision grew hot and blurry. "You have every right to feel the way you do…" she stopped, feeling her throat closing involuntarily as she tried to finish without breaking down completely. "So don't feel like you have to repress it."

There was a pause, and the dam broke. Rachel felt the tears fall freely, and she tried to make her shuddering breaths as quiet as she could, not wanting to distract Puck from listening to her words. But, suddenly, Puck's body leaned forward into hers and his strong arms surrounded her. She felt his chin on her shoulder and his breath in her ear. Rachel accepted, wrapping her arms fully around him and pressing her face into his shirt, feeling the tears leak and create wet patches in his shirt. Leaning against Puck's chest, Rachel could feel that his breath was equally unsteady and shuddering.

The pair remained that way for several minutes; somehow, their shared support for each other was calming, and eventually Rachel's tears had stopped, their mutual catharsis done. She pulled away, blinking to clear her watery vision. Puck's eyes were not red, but he did sniff once and, as Rachel watched him, a single tear escaped from his eye, which Rachel could see now shone with a gentle understanding. Grinning for reasons she could not explain, Rachel extended her hand and wiped the tear away, eliciting from Puck the first genuine smile she'd seen on his face in a long time.

"Thanks, Berry."

"I apparently needed it just as much as you did," Rachel replied with a laugh, shaking her head softly.

"Well, obviously," Puck teased with a wink. "You're freaking insane." Despite his words, his expression remained fairly neutral, even sad. Rachel just giggled softly and hugged him once more.

"I know you'll be okay, Noah," she said into his shoulder. She let go and, to her surprise, Puck's lips were still curved upward. He turned out to the last rays of the setting sun, scratching his mohawk absently.

"You know," he began, his voice still subdued and faraway, "I think you may actually be right, Berry."

And, slowly, as if in a dream, he swung his legs back and leaped from the colorful plastic ledge, his feet hitting the gravel below. When he straightened up, his stance was strong and powerful.

Rachel straightened the neon pink band on her forehead and pulled her legwarmers back up her shins. "Feel anything?" Rachel asked, amused. In response, Puck lifted his foot and checked his soles, before looking back up at the talkative girl who'd been his unexpected savior of sorts and smiled fondly. He shook his head, said "Nope," and then began to walk away from the playground and towards the sidewalk.

Rachel cocked her head and adjusted her clothing one last time before calling out to Puck's bulky retreating form: "Where are you going, Noah?" She dropped off the playground complex as he had, squinting in the brilliant red light as the sun began its final, fiery descent behind the suburban rooftops. "Your house is the other way."

Puck turned around, walking backwards as he answered: "To get some shoes."

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**A/N: **Reviews are awesome. Oh, and this is a one-shot, so you won't get any Story Alerts from this. ;)


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